The Count's Daughter
by Stubby the Newsgirl
Summary: Humperdink seeks his runaway bride, Westley and Buttercup seek a peaceful new life, Inigo and Fezzik seek to become Pirate Kings, but these plans are thwarted by Amalia Count Ruegen's Daughter
1. Chapter One: Amalia

The Count's Daughter

**By: Stubby the Newsgirl**

**Prologue**

After binding Prince Humperdink to the chair, Wesley and Buttercup were greeted by the Spanish swordsman, Inigo Montoya. The Giant, Fezzik, surprised the trio by arriving with four horses as white as milk, upon which they rode to escape from Florin. 

*-*-*-* 

**Chapter 1: Amalia **

Amalia sat in front of her mirror brushing her long brown hair. Prince Humperdink and Princess Buttercup's wedding was rather unusual and it had been performed rather hastily compared to other weddings she had seen. 

"No matter, I suppose that they will make a handsome couple. The melancholy of the Princess only seems to add to her beauty, although I would like to see her smile once in a while," Amalia said both to herself and her small mutt-dog Calliope. The dog perked up and barked in agreement. 

"Tonight we're to dine with the King and Queen, as well as the future heir and heiress. Of course, we'll have to sit at the end of the table with the odious, pompous, arrogant Lady of Westenburg. And you'll have to hide beneath my skirts else she finds you and eats you alive." 

Calliope yapped discontentedly. 

"I don't like it any better than you do. I wish we could sit with the royals and with father. I'd be able to chat with the Prince, and King, and Queen… and the Princess too," Amalia said dreamily. "But father would never allow it. It's as though he's embarrassed of me," she sighed in frustration. 

"I wonder that he doesn't lock me in a tower to be rid of me. Or maybe chain me in an oubliette where he can forget about me entirely," she sighed again, getting up. Calliope took her place beneath the train of the young maid's dress. They walked into the main hall where chaos seemed to dwell in every corner. There were several guards running about shouting orders, and knights were gathering in their troops. 

"This is quite strange," Amalia whispered. She scanned the guards looking for the crest of the house of Norland- the house of her mother's brother. When she finally spotted it, she stopped the guard. 

"Demetrius Norland, do you not recognize your own cousin!" she called out. The guard turned swiftly and recognizing his cousin, he lifted his helmet. 

"My lady Rugen, you should not be wandering about the palace in such a time as this!" he chastised. 

"You silly ninny pinny, I'm going to the wedding banquet!" Amalia said with laughter in her voice. 

"It has been canceled. You must leave at once!" Demetrius said with much fear. 

"Why Demetri, what has happened? What's wrong?" Amalia asked reading the fright in his dark eyes. 

"Nothing… nothing that concerns the courtiers," he said hesitantly. 

"It's not like you to keep secrets from me, and for that matter, I am three years your elder, and I demand to know what you are hiding," Amalia said defiantly. 

"This is not a game, cousin. Our lives may be at risk-" 

"Demetri, what are we to do with the corpse of your uncle, the Count?" another young guard called from the other side of the hall interrupting Demetrius. 

"What are we to do with the corpse of your uncle, the Count…" Amalia echoed hardly believing her ears. 

"I am sorry, but this is not the moment you should mourn. Our lives are at steak! You must go and lock yourself in your room immediately!" Demetrius yelled running in the direction of the dining hall. 

Despite her cousin's heeding, Amalia could not move. Her feet felt as lead weights. Her father- whom she had argued with that very morning about not being able to sit with him- was dead. 

Suddenly, Humperdink's voice boomed through the hallway. "They are no longer in the palace! They have escaped! Don't just stand there, you dolts! Surround all the main gates!" 

At Humperdink's announcement, Amalia regained her strength and ran towards the guard who had previously called to Demetri. She stopped him by grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him severely. 

"Who is my father's conqueror? Who killed Count Rugen?" Amalia demanded. 

"It-it-it… It was the Spaniard! He's a great swordsman, they say! He came with the Giant and the man in black!" the young guard said, frightened by the forcefulness of the maid. 

"Have you gone mad? Who are these people you talk of? There are no such persons as those you describe in the court!" Amalia exclaimed incredulously. 

"No… they are not courtiers, they are… they are the Princess' kidnappers!" the guard stuttered. 

Amalia finally released the poor guard, and he ran as far from her as he possibly could. She remained in the hall trying to regain composure. How could she, what with this tragic news? 

Her thoughts swirled around her mind, making her dizzy. _Princess Buttercup? Kidnapped? Again? They have to be stopped! Especially the Spaniard! But who is to defeat him? The only person in station to defeat him is Demetrius. Demetri, Demetri, Demetri. The poor boy is a terrible swordsman. I am much better than he, but I would not be allowed. A duel could be avoided if Humperdink catches them; surely, they'd be sentenced to death. _IF _he catches them… there's a great possibility he won't. Though Humperdink's a magnificent trekker, he could never catch them in time, especially with his troupe of clown-guards… and without the advice of Father. Father… the Prince's confidante and advisor. How is it that I know more about the Prince than my own father? Oh, it's not a thing to be contemplated in a situation such as this!_ She stopped her thoughts. 

She had to figure out what to do. She herself was fairly skilled in trekking, though she hadn't learned as Humperdink and Demetrius. Demetri had been forced to learn as a member of the guard, although it didn't help him much. Amalia had learned much more from him than he had learned from himself. She had always taken interest in the subjects Demetri got to learn such as fencing, trekking, hunting- all the adventurous subjects. And he taught them to her, however, she was not allowed to practice them beyond the confines of her own privacy. 

The more she thought about trying to figure a plan, the more time she was wasting. She couldn't be indecisive any longer. 

"They forced me into the chair, bound me, and nearly killed me. But I forced them out of the Princess' window and they fled!" Amalia heard Humperdink raving to the Council, guards, and knights. 

Suddenly, an idea came into Amalia's mind and courage burst into her heart. If Humperdink couldn't catch the villains, then her father's slayer would be roaming free with the Princess as a consolation prize. She had to avenge her father's death and save the Princess. She ran to Demetri's chamber and quickly found something to wear. It was the worn outfit of a pageboy; only four years ago her cousin had been a page to one of the King's valiant knights. The outfit certainly wouldn't be missed. As she threw off her dress, she heard an impatient yapping coming from beneath it. She lifted the dress to find her companion. 

"Oh Calliope! I am sorry that I forgot you were even under there!" she exclaimed comforted by the animal's presence. 

She quickly changed, and there was much discomfort in the outfit. She then remembered to de-enhance her femininity by wrapping a stocking around her bosom so that her chest looked as flat as possible, as well as roll a thick sock into her pants. With much difficulty, she managed to pull her hair back into an uncomfortable peasant cap. Satisfied with her boyish appearance, she ran to the stable with Calliope at her heels. 

In the stable she noted the footprints of the giant as she saddled the chestnut mare called Faerie's Whip. She was the fastest horse of all that Prince Humperdink owned, and there was no reason of doubt that the Prince would have taken her on his search for the Princess if Amalia hadn't have gotten to her first. But this was certainly no concern of Amalia's. 

She clandestinely rode toward the giant's footprints- he had obviously stolen four of the Prince's milky white steeds- where, sure enough, they lead to the Princess' chamber window where Humperdink said he forced out the captors. From the footprints, it looked more as if they had jumped out the window and the giant had caught them and mounted them on the horses, but Amalia didn't have time to analyze the situation. She simply followed the hoof-prints that lead toward the wood. 


	2. Chapter Two: The Chase

The Count's Daughter 

By: Stubby the Newsgirl 

**Chapter 2: The Chase**

          Amalia had raced quite far, following the hoof-prints of the four horses until she reached the green entrance of the fire swamp.  

          "What shall we do now?" Shall we follow them into the swamp?"  Amalia asked out loud.  Faerie's Whip snorted in objection and Calliope, peeping from the saddlebag barked her defiance.

"I agree, but what must we do now?" Amalia cried out.  Both animals looked at her questioningly.

"Oh, fie on you!  FIE!" Amalia shouted out spontaneously to the Princess' captors.  Faerie's Whip jumped back and Calliope ducked back into the saddlebag.

_"What now?"_ Amalia thought.  Then, like a beacon in the dark, logic shined on her stupidity.  "We shall go around and continue following them!" she finally concluded bringing Faerie's Whip into a steady gallop.

As they reached the other side of the fire swamp, Amalia was perplexed to find no hoof-prints anywhere.

"Perhaps they didn't make it…" she said aloud, but she could not trust the judgment she had made.  She could never be satisfied until she knew her father's death had been avenged.  She decided the only thing to do was to wait until they came out.  _IF_ they even came out.  She dismounted Faerie's Whip and led the mare behind the brush of the forest so they would be hidden.  Faerie's Whip grazed silently as Amalia tried to decide what she had to do next.

"When they come out, I'll draw my sword and then… well, then what?" Amalia spoke to herself as she reached for the sword she had packed in the saddlebag.  "I should say something, like-"

Just then, Calliope jumped out of the saddlebag and barked loudly.

Amalia dropped the sword in fright, then saw Calliope and breathed a sigh of relief.  "Oh, hush!" Amalia scolded the dog then reluctantly sat down.  She was quite embarrassed even though no one had seen her.  Calliope whimpered, then crawled under Amalia's arm to be pet.  Faerie's Whip, feeling rather neglected, lay next to Amalia and laid her head into the maid's lap.

Amalia looked up to the sky.  Though it should have been very dark since it was so late in the night, they were bathed in the light of the moon.  Amalia spotted Cassiopeia- it had been her mother's favorite constellation.  Amalia's mother had shown it to her long ago before she had died.  Her mother- Beatrice Norland- was always a happy woman, even while she was suffering through the pneumonia that eventually killed her.  Amalia's memory of her mother was always with laughter, singing, and joy.  She knew that the marriage between her father and mother had been arranged, but her mother never seemed to show any discontent from it.  Her father, however, often expressed his distaste to being married to such a "foolish" woman.  He considered her quixotic behavior a disgrace to the name of the Rugen's.  She loved her mother more than anything else in her life.  As for her father, she wasn't quite sure where her feelings lay.  Her father had always been a very cold, unaffectionate stranger to her, but still it was her obligation to find his victor and kill him.  For the first time, Amalia realized that she was an orphan.  Technically, she wasn't a true orphan.  After all, she was twenty years old- more than two years from the coming of age.  She was an adult, but she still felt like an orphan.  Wearing the suit of a pageboy from when her cousin was only of thirteen years didn't make her feel any older.

"How am I ever to defeat the Spaniard if my father couldn't?"  Amalia questioned herself until she drifted to sleep against the chestnut mare and held the small dog for comfort.

*-*-*-*

          As the sun rose over the coast of Florin, four white horses with four, very unusual looking riders passed quickly and quietly, unharmed, out of the fire swamp and towards lands where they would be free from the terrible reign of Prince Humperdink.

*-*-*-*

          Amalia opened her eyes, slowly as the sun began shone brightly.  "_It was never this bright in the mornings!_" she thought as she sat up abruptly.

          "Where am I?" she cried aloud.

          Faerie's Whip got up to her feet and whinnied, Calliope barked incessantly, and Amalia recalled the details of the previous night.  She quickly came to her senses, readjusted what needed to be readjusted, tucked Calliope and the sword into the saddlebag, and observed the new tracks that had been left.

          "BLAST!  FIE!" Amalia cried as she mounted Faerie's Whip.  "We're about an hour and a half behind them!  Giddy up!  Quickly!  You must run faster if I'm to save the Princess and kill that Spaniard!"  Amalia said to the mare.

          Faerie's Whip was not a stupid animal; she understood her rider's command, for she ran as though the most carnivorous creatures imaginable were chasing her.  They followed the track until they were out of the forest.  Once the darkness of the forest had left them, Amalia realized that the tracks were leading towards the Bridge of Walton.  Amalia knew the bridge very well from all her escapades with Demetri.  She would beat those villains if it were the last thing she'd do.

          "This way, Faerie's Whip!  I know a short cut!"  Amalia commanded as she directed the mare the opposite direction of the prints.


	3. Chapter Three: A Bridge To Cross

**The Count's Daughter**

**By: Stubby the Newsgirl**

**Chapter 3: A Bridge To Cross**

          After hours of running, Amalia finally spotted the apple tree that stood in front of the Bridge of Walton.  So many times in her childhood wood she and Demetri go clamoring up the tree, sitting within its strong branches, eating its sweet apples, then throwing the eaten cores at casual passerbys, or lovers crossing the bridge.  The tree was quite large, but it still seemed smaller than what she remembered, or perhaps, she had grown since the last time she had been there.

          Amalia checked the area for tracks.  People had been in the area, but not four horses.  Not yet, at least.  She watered Faerie's Whip and led the horse behind a thick tree so that it wouldn't be seen.  Then, she drew out the sword, fastened it to the belt she was wearing, tucked Calliope safely inside her shirt, and proceeded to climb the tall sturdy apple tree.  As soon as she made sure she was well hidden, she began to make herself comfortable in the tall leafy branches.  

While situating herself, she felt something pelted her, hard, on the head.  Looking up, she realized there were apples galore, and then she also realized that she was quite hungry, especially since the Prince and Princess' wedding feast never took place and since she had completely forgotten to pack any food.  She feasted on the apples, threw some down to Faerie's Whip, and offered some to Calliope also.  Normally, Calliope refused to eat anything but the finest meats.  However, having also missed the wedding feast, the poor creature was famished and was willing to eat whatever came to her.

"It won't be much longer until we make it out of Florin!" a distant voice said merrily.  Amalia looked alert, and plucked a few apples from the tree.

"My dear Westley, at last, we will live happily!" the voice of a woman said joyfully.

_Could it be the Princess?  But why would she be happy to be kidnapped?_  Amalia wondered.

"Look! There's an apple tree!  We should… _take some_," said a heavily Spanish accented voice.

_The Spaniard!  I must kill him!_ Amalia thought.

"_Take some… take some…_  Oh!  I know!  Just make sure you don't _break 'em…_" said another very heavily accented voice.  Amalia wasn't quite sure where he was from.

"You know, Fezzik, I'd really like to _eat_," said the Spaniard.

"Hmm… Having one of those apples would be a _treat_," said the other accented voice.  Amalia looked through the branches and saw that it was the Giant.  She took a sharp intake of air and gasped.  The Giant was awfully big.  All of her worries began to penetrate her thoughts.

_How can I fight all three of them?  Why is the Princess so calm and cheerful?  What is this rhyming game about?  That Giant looks awfully big!  His had is the size of my entire torso!_  Now they were directly beneath her.  She put her fears aside, gathered all the courage that was in her and chucked the apples down with all her might.  She had very good aim and hit her targets head on, figuratively and literally.  

_Curses!  None of them fell off their horses!_ She thought.

"Oof!" said the Giant.

"Ow!" said the Spaniard

"Hey!" said the man in black.

"What happened?" asked the Princess.

"Take one more step and perish!" Amalia said as threateningly as she could.

"Who said that?" asked the man in black.

"Oh, Westley, I'm frightened!" said the Princess.

"I think it was the tree _talking_," said the Spaniard.

"Better than the tree _walking_," said the Giant.

Amalia slapped her hand to her forehead.  _What kind of idiot believes that trees can talk?  Perhaps this will be easier than I thought!_

Just then, Calliope caught sight of the Giant and began barking and growling.  Amalia tried to hush the dog, but she lost her balance and fell out of the tree.  Luckily, she was directly beneath the Giant and as she landed on him, he fell from his horse and broke her fall.

_Blast! Blast! Blast!  What now?  Quickly, get up and draw your sword!_  She obeyed her thoughts, got up, and drew her sword from its scabbard.  She noticed the Giant also getting up, and she braced herself.  _Now what?  I have to say something!  What do I say?_  "Umm… Halt!  Who goes there?" she asked.  She quickly readjusted her cap, as it had come out of place during her every so graceful introductory to the four.

The four riders looked at Amalia in confusion, then looked to each other searching for an answer.

Amalia's cheeks flushed red from embarrassment.  _Of all the cliché's to use, I chose that one! What an idiot I must look to them!  Now how am I supposed to appear fierce?_

"Well… uh, we are four travelers, and our only wish to cross the bridge without conflict… if it's all right with you," the man in black said scratching his head.  He was very civil.  Not only was he civil, but he was quite handsome as well.  

_Tan, brawny, blue-eyed, and blonde… No wonder the Princess seemed so happy traveling with him._  Amalia thought.  "Very-" she stopped.  She was going to say the words 'very well' but then she remembered that she could not be taken in by this stranger's charm.  She had a mission to accomplish, and it was to save the Princess, avenge her father's death, then get the heck outta there.  She looked at the Princess who was looking at her.

"No!  Release the Princess at once!" Amalia ordered.  The Princess looked at her curiously, as if she recognized Amalia.  Amalia had seen the Princess in court many times, and oddly enough, this was the first time Buttercup ever seemed genuinely happy.

Buttercup examined the youth carefully.   There was something about him that was strangely familiar to her.  "Do I know you, child?" the Princess asked.

_Child?_ Amalia's cheeks felt even hotter.  _The Princess is only but four years older than me and she calls me a child!_  "Er, no!  I do not believe so.  I- I am but a- uh… a pageboy!" Amalia said looked down at her outfit.  "And I am here to rescue you from these knaves!" she added quickly swinging her sword.

The four all looked at her for a moment, then looked at each other, then looked back at her, then looked again at each other, then burst into hearty laughter.

Now, Amalia was seething with anger.  Not only had she made a fool of herself, but she had also incurred the laughter of that dastardly Spaniard.

"Oh, why that's very brave of you, but I need no rescuing!  These men are rescuing me from Prince Humperdink's cruelty.  We are being followed at this very moment by his troops and we must hurry, so please, let us pass," Buttercup said gently, after the laughter had faded.

Amalia stood bewildered.  She had never known that the Princess was so unhappy.  It was true, Prince Humperdink did have a very callous character, but she had never really known that he was cruel.  Amalia withdrew her sword.

"You may pass," Amalia said, still confused about the situation.  The Princess smiled, as she and the man in black- Westley was his name, wasn't it- rode happily side by side.  The giant passed after them, and after him, the Spaniard was ready to trot through.

But Amalia's reflexes were quicker than that.  She swung her sword, frightening the white steed that the Spaniard was on.  The stallion reared back throwing off its rider.

"Not you," Amalia said looking the fallen Spaniard directly in the eyes.  The former three who had passed all turned around in surprise.


	4. Chapter Four: The Duel

**The Count's Daughter**

**By: Stubby the Newsgirl**

**Chapter 4: The Duel**

          "What is the meaning of this?" asked the Spaniard, looking up from having fallen.  He clenched his stomach and grimaced.  Amalia saw his shirt was bloodstained and concluded that her father had given him the injuries.  That was good; it would work to her advantage, at least.  But she couldn't just go up to him and stab him could she?  No, that would be dishonorable and treacherous.  She was now having second thoughts about this whole situation.  Just seeing his shirt covered in blood made her squeamish, let alone, taking the life of a living being.

          _Courage, Amalia, courage!_ She told herself, taking a deep breath.  Then she strode over to the Spaniard, still lying on the ground.  She didn't have a glove, or gauntlet for that matter, so she would have to use her bare hand.  She kneeled down to him, his dark eyes piqued with curiosity.  Then, using her right hand, she slapped him smartly, forehand against his right cheek, backhand against his left cheek.

"I challenge you…" Amalia said as bravely as she could, "…to the death!"

          "_You_ challenge _me_?" the Spaniard scoffed, half amused.

          "Get up and draw your sword!" Amalia ordered.  Though her words sounded bold, her innards were twisting every which way.  Now she noticed the audience of the Giant, the man in black, and the Princess, which didn't help her overcome her fear.

          "I do not accept this challenge," the Spaniard said clutching his stomach and getting up.  He was much bigger than Amalia, and could easily kill her.  Still, Amalia had to persevere.

          "You are a coward, then!" Amalia shouted.

          "It would be cowardice to kill a child," the Spaniard said rolling his eyes.

          "If anyone is to be killed, it will be you.  Now draw your sword!" Amalia said.  Her words were much louder than her action.

          "I will not," he refused, raising up his blood-smeared hands and trying to get past her.  Amalia's stomach churned at the sight of the blood.  She was very tempted to agree with him, but she knew that she couldn't.  This was a murderer!   She blocked him.

          "They say you are a great swordsman, yet I see no mark of greatness that they speak of!" she said tauntingly.

          "I have no time for your foolishness, child.  Let me pass before I get angry," the Spaniard said still trying to get past.  Amalia wondered if she shouldn't just let him cross.

          _No! I have to fight him!_  She blocked him again.

"Please, we're in quite a hurry to meet our ship," the man I black interjected.

          "You are free to leave," Amalia said to him.  "_You_, however, will be meeting nothing but your death," she said to the Spaniard.  _Where are these words coming from?_ She wondered.

          "Fezzik, pick him up and throw him in the water to cool his temper," the Spaniard said to the Giant.

          "Touch me and die, knave!" Amalia said fiercely to the Giant.  She was certainly making a spectacle of herself.

          "Inigo, I don't think he will let me touch him," said the Giant.

          "Rip his arms off.  Then he won't be able to," the Spaniard said casually.

          Amalia narrowed her eyes.  "You may very well try, but you will not succeed!" she said pointing her sword at the Giant while still keeping an eye on the Spaniard.

          "But Inigo, he's so little… he can't do much harm.  Besides, I like his braveness.  He is very brave, don't you think?  We could use him as a cabin boy!  Let's take him with us; he can be our little mascot!" Fezzik cooed.

          Everyone, Amalia included, stopped and stared at the Giant.  Crickets chirruped.

          "Well, I still think it's a good idea…" Fezzik shrugged.  Inigo and Westley rolled their eyes.  Buttercup, as always, just stood there passively.

          "I will go nowhere… not until he is dead!" Amalia said pointing her sword back at Inigo and reiterating the subject.  Her words, however, seemed to be tripe to her.  She didn't want to kill, but she just had to.

          "Prince Humperdink is probably gaining on us by now!" Buttercup said worriedly clutching to Westley.

          Inigo sighed.  "I do not think it's good that we split up, but we must.  I will deal with this and meet you on the ship," he said as the three departed.

          "Now, draw your sword," Amalia said for the third time.  The Spaniard just stood there.  She decided to act now.  She had warned him several times.  She plunged her sword into his chest… or at least she tried to, but he quickly drew and blocked it.

          Amalia tried again, but again, Inigo blocked it.  "Why 'you want me dead?" he asked blocking another hit.

          "Because you killed my father, half-wit!" Amalia said swinging with force.  _What happens if I actually kill him?  Well… he'll be dead, of course, but then what?  Will I be a murderer also?  I don't want to be a murderer, but I can't live knowing that my father's slayer is free._

          Inigo winced.  Here, he had just come back from a twenty-year search for his father's killer and he was now a killer of someone else's father.  "I am terribly sorry for it…" he said guiltily.  "Who was your father?" he asked curiously as he blocked another blow.

          _Sorry? Perhaps I am wrong to judge him so quickly._  "My father was Count Tyrone Rugen," she said, her blows growing less severe.

_          Rugen?  Count Rugen had a son?_  Inigo looked at the boy's hand.  _Hmm… five fingers.  Those hands are very small, how old is the boy?_  Inigo thought.

"You only have five fingers," Inigo commented.

          "So you _did_ know my father," Amalia said curiously.

          "Yes… and I take it back.  I am not sorry for killing him," Inigo said.

          "You fiend!" cried Amalia, as her eyes grew wide with outrage.  _What a horrible thing to say!_  She began to lunge her sword every which way in an attempt to kill him.

          "You don't understand-"  Inigo tried to explain as the boy began to combat violently.  "Your father… he was an evil man," he said countering the hits.

          Amalia paused.  "How would you know anything about my father?  I have never seen you before in my entire life!" she growled, fighting even more ferociously.

          "it's true; we have never met, until now.  But I know one thing about your father… and that is that he killed my father!" Inigo defended himself against the young page's angst-driven thrusts.

          Amalia paused again.  _Father had killed a man?  Yes, father could be cold at times, but he wouldn't kill a man without reason.  There had to be a reason for it.  Yes, I am sure there's a reason for it!  The Spaniard is only trying to make me pity him.  Well, it won't work.  _"Have you any children?" she asked deceitfully withdrawing her sword.

          "None… none, yet," Inigo said seeing that the boy had calmed down.  He too withdrew his sword.

          "Good.  Then there will be no one to mourn you when you die!" Amalia said thrusting her sword at Inigo's chest in a sudden surprise attack.

          _Yes, this is Rugen's son, all right.  A deceiver and trickster!  But he will not be quick as I!_  Inigo thought.  His reflexes were quicker than what Amalia had assumed them to be.  But now, Inigo was angry.  He had given the boy more than enough chances to bow out of the fight, but the boy was persistent.  Too persistent, and Inigo was already much delayed from his friends.  He would teach the boy a lesson, as Rugen had taught him.

"I wouldn't have done that if I were you," Inigo said fiercely, now beginning to fight.

          Amalia stepped back.  It had been she who had been delivering all the blows, now the Spaniard was fighting.  "You do not frighten me!" Amalia lied opposing his blows.  He was good.  **Very good.  Now Amalia began questioning her motives.  _What have I gotten myself into?  I've bitten off more than I can chew?  Who am I fighting for again?  My father?  A man who hardly knew his own daughter?  A man who wouldn't let me sit with him at the head of the table?  This isn't even my position to take!  Why am I risking my life?  Couldn't I stop the duel and apologize?  No, too late now!  The Spaniard is determined.  Men are so difficult!  Why can't they be more like women?  Women are sensible.  When women fight, all that's passed are foul words.  And foul words can be apologized for easily.  But no, men cannot do that.  Men must kill each other when they argue!  Why must they be so insensible?  _Amalia wondered as her strength began to diminish.**

          "You are not bad for a boy your age," Inigo commented.  He regretted having to kill the boy.

          _He just called me a boy!  What an insult!_  "I AM NOT A BOY!" Amalia exclaimed, forgetting her disguise.  She quickly remembered, and held her hand to her mouth- as all ladies do- and gasped, dropping her sword from her hand.

"I suppose you think yourself a man," Inigo said as his sword came swiftly down upon the youth's arm.  This stunned him for a moment, for the boy had been fighting fairly well… until now.  "A man who made the fatal mistake of dropping his sword," Inigo mused, picking up the youth's sword.

          Luckily, Amalia had drawn her arm back in time to keep it from being dismembered.  Unfortunately, the Spaniard had her sword, and he was much bigger than she.  Pain seared through her arm.  Pain seared through her entire being.  _What am I to do?  I don't want to die!_

          "I believe you have won," Amalia said clutching her arm and bowing her head.  She closed her eyes, trying to hold back her tears of pain and fear.

          Inigo studied the boy._  He is crying… because he failed his father.  I know that feeling all to well._  Inigo couldn't bring himself to kill the boy.  Observing the boy, it seemed that he was looking at his own reflection.  "Open your eyes, my child" he said.

          "I am not a child, and certainly not yours," Amalia said wiping her eyes and looking up to see the man staring at her.  "But I will do as you say if it's a means to save myself," she added quietly.

          Inigo admired the boy's boldness, but it also angered him.  Inigo found it ironic that he was now in Rugen's place._  Will I end up like Count Rugen?  Will the boy pursue me as I pursed his father?_

          Amalia examined his furrowed brows.  He seemed to be in deep provoking thought.  He wasn't looking at her anymore, but she felt unsettled.  She noticed his wounds; his stomach and arms had been stabbed.  She felt the pain in her own arm.  Her gaze went back to his face.  He had two scars on either side of his cheeks, then her gaze went to his dark unblinking eyes.  He was still thinking.  "What's he thinking, I wonder!" she said aloud.  She gasped and covered her mouth.  _Think before you speak, you fool!_  She insulted herself.

          The question brought Inigo back to reality.  He looked at the boy and smiled.  "Did you love your father?" he asked putting his sword back into its scabbard.  He still held Amalia's.

          _Where did that come from?  What kind of question is that?  Should I answer him truthfully?_  Amalia wondered.  "Yes," she said simply.  He looked at her long and hard, or so she felt as he did.  His eyes were unflinching; they seemed to pierce her, she couldn't lie.  She looked away.  "No…" she said.  _What do I feel for my father?  Not love, not hate, I respect him, but I don't find him admirable… _ "I- I don't know!" she said frustrated with his question.

"I knew it was impossible for anyone to love Count Rugen," Inigo chuckled at the boy's indecision.

          _He's mocking me as well as insulting father!_  "How dare you say that!  How dare you insult my father!" Amalia exclaimed wanting to give him a piece of her mind.

Inigo would have replied, but then he heard rumbling in the distance.  "You hear that noise?" he asked listening carefully.

          Amalia's anger dissipated as she listened.  "It's hoof-beats," she said.

          "Something's coming…" Inigo said trying to figure out what it was.

          "Hoof-beats…" Amalia echoed.  "The Prince!  It's the Prince!" Amalia exclaimed excitedly, running towards the sound.

          Inigo was alarmed.  If Humperdink found him, he would be killed.  He had to stop the boy!


	5. Chapter Five: The End of the Feud

**The Count's Daughter**

**By: Stubby the Newsgirl**

**Chapter 5:  The End of the Feud**

"You will not get away so easily!" Inigo said grabbing the boy.

          "Let go of me!" Amalia cried, elbowing him in the stomach.

          Inigo let go of both the boy and the boy's sword he had been holding.  His body writhed with pain from the blow; his wound had re-opened.  "Stop!" he said breathlessly.  _I cannot fail now, not after having gotten so far!_  He gathered the little strength he had left, picked up the sword he had dropped, and stumbled after the running youth.

          As Amalia ran, she clutched to her arm, but there was also blood on her other sleeve from where she had hit the Spaniard.  Prince Humperdink was still very far off, but she would meet him.  _Wait!  The Princess said something about his cruelty.  If he finds out that I met the Princess and let her go, what will he do to me?  Not only did I do that, but I also stole his horse!  And moreover, I shall be disgraced for disguising myself as a man!_  One part of her told her to keep running, while another part told her to go back and hide herself.  _But if I go back, that Spaniard will be there!  What must I do?_  What was worse?  Humperdink or the Spaniard?  Humperdink was the Prince; the Spaniard… well, he was nobody.  She decided to turn back.  _Where will I hide?_  Amalia remembered a secret place… where she had been forbidden to go.  The Pit of Despair; it was her father's haven.  Well, it wouldn't be of any use to her father now.  She would hide there.

          Inigo could endure it no longer.  His wounds were bleeding profusely.  _Forget the boy and go back to the ship!_  He started getting very dizzy; his body needed rest… no, his body needed blood.  He collapsed, hearing the hoof-beats.  _They're coming!  Damn him, damn that stupid boy!_  And that was Inigo Montoya's last thought.

          Amalia hadn't run far before she came across the fallen body of the Spaniard.  He was just lying there in the grass, like a corpse, still clutching to the sword and to his stomach.  She nudged him lightly with her foot.  He didn't stir.  She kneeled down to him.  He wasn't breathing.  He was certainly dead.  She dared to touch him.  He was cold.  She should have been glad._  I didn't kill him, did I?  No, he was already dying from the wounds of my father._  Or at least that was what she assured herself.  She rose, glancing at the Spaniard.  His face was twisted with the expression of painful agony.  This troubled her, and she looked away.  The feud between their families was over, and she had won it.  Still, she didn't feel like a champion.  In hind's sight, the Spaniard had been quite civil to her.  She felt a chill come up her spine:  only moments ago, those dark Spanish eyes had been burning into hers, and his voice echoed in her thoughts.  _Did you love your father?_  

"No, I didn't.  How could I love someone who I never knew?"  Amalia answered.  Funny that she knew the answer to that question only after the Spaniard had died.  All the fighting was in vain.  _If it had been any other situation, we might have been friends, maybe even lovers._  She looked at the Spaniard once more.  He was handsome, indeed.  She then, removed the uncomfortable sock from her pants and the uncomfortable hat from her head and laid it beside his fallen body.

"I'm sorry it ended this way," she said, truly remorseful.  Then she turned and walked back towards the direction of the tree, where she had left Calliope and Faerie's Whip.  It was over; she had won.


End file.
